Dance
by NinjaSmashley
Summary: Sherlock knew his dancing partner wasn't at his crime solving partner's wedding. [Not Very Spoiling Spoilers for those who have not watched A Sign of Three] A/N: My first Sherlock published fic. Please let me know how you liked it and how I tried to capture the characters.


My first for Sherlock. Thank you.

-NinjaSmaashley

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It was a short text that started the evening, the post wedding shenanigans. Despite receiving no reply, he figured her silence meant she was acting on his request. It usually did and today would be no different. She wasn't one for changing her texting habits much, just her number every so often.

He wanted to dance. He knew his dancing partner wasn't at John's wedding. Either way, he was sure it would be turned into a mockery, something to laugh at over breakfast with John. And Mary, John and Mary. Lord knows Mycroft never resisted making the jab here, comment here. It has only been a few years since he stopped, there was no reason to add fuel to that fire.

By the time he hit Baker St, he could see a single light on in the living space. She acted quickly or she was never that far to begin with, maybe both. Who knew how comfortable she was up there this time.

Pulling his scarf and coat off he was greeted with a warmer than usual apartment. Candles were lit on the mantle, one dripping on his forever roommate, some near his laptops and over scraps of paper.

"I told you that you shouldn't have done it."

Sherlock snapped his head to the couch where she sat, bundled under a simple wrap. She smiled at him, her hair down and pushed behind her ears. She had been growing it out over time, possibly giving her something to use as a cover when needed. This was the longest he had seen it given it was down tonight.

He smiled, hanging his scarf and coat up. "I couldn't say no to them. There was no logical reason as to why I could decline. We worked together for years, it was a logical progression of knowing each other."

"You mean you knew your best friend would ask you to be his best man?" She asked, smiling to herself as she called him on what he wished to avoid saying out loud. "How horrible," she mocked him by saying.

Sherlock threw himself on the couch next to her, an audible sigh escaping him as he loosened his tie and pulled the flower from his collar. He admired it in the light before letting his arm drop. "I am not having this discussion now." Sherlock lazily let his head turn towards her so he could admit, "and he is my best friend."

She smiled, "so you are human, after all that?"

"I've shown you human before," he said with a smirk, tiredly closing his eyes. Images of their last encounter flashed through his mind, causing an ache in his chest he felt before while mentally analyzing the Mayfly Man case. She shouldn't have shown up like that, he was in total control at that moment - or so he thought.

She smiled at him, reaching out to hold onto his hand, her middle finger feeling the petals of the flower in his grip. He opened his eyes and shifted his hand, his fingers reaching for her wrist. For too long, her pulse had been calming to him, her presence grounding, her words soothing and her body electrifying. He had those all at his fingertips and it washed a sense of calmness over him.

John's happiness sent envy through Sherlock that he had been trying to understand and it caused a pain in his chest similar to the scenes playing through his mind of Irene Adler. Like John, she was a woman who understood human behavior. Unlike John, she was able to manipulate it to her advantage, playing on wishes and dreams, using her body to achieve her goals and secure her safety. For her it was a game, just as deduction was Sherlock's. And just as she admired Sherlock for his ability to perceive reality like an open book, Sherlock envied her and her ability to render a pulse tantalizing.

Irene dropped her head to his lap, her eyes closing as she found comfort in their closeness. While this was a moment stolen for the two of them, they both know that he coming here compromised everything she built to protect herself from her enemies. Soon she would have to leave.

"Can you stay?" he asked, his voice a simple hum in the empty apartment. She lifted her head and shifted to look at him, her hand pulling from his grip to steady herself. She smiled, her one eyebrow raised as she fished for the words to say. He stopped her by saying, "Don't." He leaned forward and placed his lips on her cheek in a simple kiss. His fingers went back for her wrist.

She leaned her forehead into his temple as she basked in the small gesture. "You shouldn't keep torchering yourself over these things, Sherlock." She placed a small kiss behind his ear, "you're not a monster, you're not that different."

Sherlock smiled at her, his eyes focusing on her lips. "I wish I could believe you."

Downstairs, Mrs Hudson fiddled with her keys as she sloppily tried to open her door. With a few slams, she was in her apartment and most likely sleeping on her couch. Sherlock feared his time with Irene might be cut short by the realization that they were not alone in the world anymore and danger frequented his doorstep.

He kissed her then, hoping to bring her thoughts back to him. It was a slow, simple kiss he learned from her. "Dance with me," he blurted, his lips reconnecting with hers briefly after.

She nodded and rose, her hand never leaving his as he followed her to open space. She hummed a tune, a simple one. He pulled her closer and wrapped his arm around her waist, her head resting on his shoulder. The flower was still in his hand as he cupped her hand, leading her in a dance as she hummed. The vibrations played through her head and resonated on his shoulders, calming him. He placed a kiss on her head as he treasured the moment, his chest aching for something he could never have.

What felt like hours passed as she hummed and he rocked her in a slow dance before she led him to bed. When he woke up, she was gone and a new text from a new number was begging for his attention.


End file.
